A Bona Fide Gold Digger (14 page)

Though she rarely gave head—had never wanted to—her tongue craved the flavor of his hidden muscle. Expecting his dick to taste as good as he looked, Milan looked forward to the deliciousness of some hard dark caramel candy. Given a chance, she’d suck on it until he pleaded for her to stop.

For the first time in her life, Milan felt the overwhelming urge to kiss, taste, and touch. Never had she felt the urge to sexually please another person as strongly as she felt at this moment.

Casey gawked as Milan brazenly devoured Gerard with her eyes. Intending to put a stop to any possible hanky panky between the two, the young woman blurted, “Gerard, I forgot to mention it, but you have an appointment at noon.”

Gerard pondered briefly, his thick brow crinkled. “At noon? Which client? I never book anyone at noon.”

“Uh,” Casey hesitated. “It was one of your regulars. The name’s in the computer. I’ll check it out in a minute.”

No way was Milan going to let a snotty kid get the best of her.

She promptly pulled out a notepad and jotted down her cell phone number. “Listen, give me a call and let me know when you can squeeze me in.” She gazed at Gerard with seductive eyes and threw him a flirty smile.

He accepted her number and returned the smile. The sexy spread of his lips had Milan wanting to spread her legs. Right there in the gym. On top of one of the weight benches.

Gerard wasn’t ordinary handsome. He was centerfold material. No, he was more than that. His facial features and cut body exceeded male model status, his look was cinema worthy. He was sexier and better looking than Taye Diggs, Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, and Denzel Washington combined. Milan wondered why Gerard was wasting his time training obnoxious Main Liners when he could be in Hollywood making megabucks.

Casey mumbled something under her breath as she eyeballed the piece of paper Milan had given Gerard. Her face turned pink again. Pinker than before, Milan noted with enormous satisfaction. And the way Casey glared at Gerard made Milan wonder if he was fucking the boss’s daughter.

Probabl
y, Milan decided. Gerard had the rich and commanding presence of an African prince. She couldn’t blame the girl for wanting to keep the handsome hunk all to herself. It wouldn’t have surprised Milan one bit if Casey threw a tantrum, snatched the paper from Gerard’s hand, and ripped it to shreds.

But Casey never got the chance. Gerard folded the paper and stuck it in the side pocket of his loose-fitting shorts.

Mission accomplished!
The way Gerard smiled at her, one would have thought she’d put pen to paper and divulged her carnal desire:
Wet pussy looking for hard dick!
But she hadn’t. Her cell number was the only thing she’d written down. It was obvious to Milan that Gerard wanted her as badly as she wanted him. She was deliriously happy.

Beaming, Milan pranced toward the exit sign.

B
ack home, Milan daydreamed about Gerard as she munched on a salad she’d prepared herself. She didn’t trust Irma messing around with her food anymore. Clearly the woman would have to go. But getting rid of Irma, she realized, was something she’d have to discuss with Noah. Convincing him that Irma was sneakily trying to ruin her figure might not be an easy endeavor.

After eating, she glided to Noah’s room to break the news of their down-sized nuptials.

“Excuse us, please,” she said, politely dismissing Ruth Henry, who was reading to Noah from one of his boring leather-bound books. The nurse had the nerve to cut her eye at Noah as if she expected him to protest. Milan felt her temper mounting. “Excuse us!” She used a stronger tone, which prompted the nurse to close the book and jump to her feet. The woman was doing more freakin’ reading than nursing, but then again, there wasn’t much else for her to do since caring for Noah only required restorative walking and dispensing his medication.

Ruth Henry scurried away and Milan settled into the chair the nurse had vacated. Leaning forward, hands clasped in front of her, she looked Noah in the eye.

“Yes?” Noah’s eyes gleamed with sexual expectation as if Milan had interrupted his reading time because she was overcome with a sudden and urgent need to get into something freaky.

She hated the way his filthy mind stayed in the gutter. Pretending not to have noticed his lecherous look, Milan smiled pleasantly. “I’ve been doing some thinking,” she said, unclasping her hands and gently stroking his scrawny wrist.

Noah tilted his head; the gleaming eyes became dull and narrowed with suspicion. “How much money are you trying to extort from me now?”

Milan gave a soft burst of laughter and patted Noah’s hand. “I didn’t come to your room to ask for more money.”

“Oh, no?” He had that raunchy look again, which she again chose to ignore.

“Not at all,” Milan said, smoothing the hair on the back of his hand. “Darling, I’ve been selfish,” she whispered with a contrite head shake. “I truly value our time together. Only the good Lord knows how much time we have left.” Her words trailed off as she gave a dramatic sigh of regret. “So, instead of wasting time with a big circus of a wedding, I’ve decided to streamline our marriage plans.” She gazed at Noah.

“Fluff my pillow, would you, my dear?” he asked, though they both knew she’d just been given an order.

Milan readjusted the pillows, but it took a large amount of self-restraint to not take one of the pillows and smother the slimy bastard to death.

“Go on,” Noah said when Milan resumed her seat.

“I want to have our wedding ceremony here at home. There’s no reason for you to leave your room. The minister can marry us right here.” She paused and gave a hand gesture. “I was thinking we could have a bedside ceremony when the ring is ready in about three weeks.”

“Bedside ceremony?” Noah asked, thoughtfully stroking his chin. “Splendid idea,” he remarked a moment later.

Ugh! She hated the way he spoke.
“Splendid idea!” He’s so freakin’ full of it.

Still, despite Noah’s annoying patterns of speech, Milan was delighted that he had so readily agreed. Completely satisfied with the bedroom encounter, Milan stood. She gave Noah a quick peck on the cheek and turned to leave.

He cleared his throat. “My dear?” The way the words were formed in a question caused Milan to involuntarily bristle.

She swiveled around to face him. “Yes, darling?” she asked pleasantly, though she wanted to pimp smack him for delaying her departure. She had a date with her golden dick—a mechanical quickie to tide her over until Gerard gave her the real thing.

“I know it’s been quite a while…” Noah wore an awkward expression. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate a soothing.”

A soothing! Oh no!
She’d thought those days were over. She’d rather plunge her finger into a pot of boiling water than stick it up Noah’s sagging ass. Thoughts zoomed inside her head as she tried to think of a way to get out of the distasteful act.

“Use the pineapple massage oil,” Noah told her. The finality in his tone informed her that he intended to have his way. With amazing agility, Noah flipped over. Lying on his stomach, he closed his eyes and waited.

Furious, Milan yanked the doors of the armoire open. That book-reading nurse had better get prepared to add anal massaging to her job description because this would be the last freakin’ time Milan touched Noah’s nasty ass.

Milan found Ruth Henry kicked back in the library, engrossed in a book. She sprang the news of the soothing as gently as she could.

“There’s nothing clinical about anal penetration. It’s improper,” Ruth Henry sputtered, objecting to the revision of her nursing duties. “I refuse.”

“Suit yourself,” Milan said with a shrug. She held out her hand, gesturing for the nurse to hand over the leather volume she’d been reading. Ruth Henry reluctantly relinquished the book. “I doubt that your next assignment will be this easy,” Milan said with a sneer. “Where else will you be allowed to idly wile away your work day lounging inside your patient’s extensive personal library?”

Ruth Henry looked away, worried. Finally, she met Milan’s gaze. “How often do I have to administer this, uh, soothing?”

“I’d like you to give Mr. Brockington a ten-minute daily back rub—once a day after he’s had lunch—after which you can give his soothing.”

Reflexively, the nurse flinched. Her eyes darted about the room, looking at everything except Milan as she considered the immoral proposition. “I’ll have to wear surgical gloves,” she finally said. “I insist,” she blurted before Milan had spoken a word.

Milan shrugged. “Whatever.” She handed over the book and Ruth Henry clutched the tome as if it were a long lost-lover.
What a nutcase!
“Oh, one more thing. Make sure you thoroughly clean Mr. Brockington after he ejaculates,” Milan said calmly, as though asking the woman to make sure she changed Noah’s soup-splattered bed clothes after every meal. The nurse drew back, balking at the idea.

The sudden buzz of her vibrating cell phone made Milan’s heart flutter. She dismissed the idiot nurse from her mind and breezed out of the room.

“Hello,” she whispered into the phone.

“Hey, it’s Gerard.” His voice, rich, deep, and exotic, penetrated her ear.

“Hi.” She sounded demure. Girlish.

“Can we meet?”

“Of course,” she said without hesitation. If he’d told her to jump, she would have asked eagerly, “How high?” It was the most incredible feeling, this sudden desire to please.

“Cool. Where would you like to train? Your place, mine, or at the gym?”

“Your place.”

“I charge one hundred and seventy an hour, but I have to be up front with you. I expect you to commit to training at least three times a week. Can you make that commitment?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You’ll sign a contract?”

“No problem.”

Gerard was direct; he got straight to the point. Milan liked that. She liked the idea of a man taking charge. He gave her his address. “Be prepared to work hard,” he warned her. “See you at seven.”

Milan, dressed in red-and-gray designer sweats, arrived at Gerard’s house at seven o’clock sharp. She rang the bell. Waited. No answer. She pressed the bell three more times. Still no answer. She checked her watch. It was only three minutes after seven, but a gusty wind sent her running to the warmth of her car. Assuming Gerard had gotten tied up in traffic, she decided to give him a little more time.

Fifteen minutes later, her cell rang. “Listen, I got tied up with one of my clients. I’m in traffic now, about a half-hour away. We can reschedule if you want to…” Gerard paused, “or you can wait.” He sounded as if he were testing her.

“I’ll wait.” Milan couldn’t believe she’d uttered those words. But there was no denying it, she wanted to see Gerard too badly to balk about the delay. She’d work out a little—lift some light weights if he insisted—but she preferred to cut to the chase. She wanted to throw up her legs and let Gerard pump some iron into her hot hole.

Forty-five minutes later, Gerard rolled up in a shiny black Land Rover. He noticed Milan and honked the horn in greeting. Milan turned off the ignition and excitedly scrambled out of her car. She wore a broad grin to assure Gerard that she honestly didn’t mind having to wait. Why she felt the need to be so damn accommodating was a mystery. She, a paying client made to wait, was smiling in gratitude that her trainer had finally arrived almost an hour late.

Gerard lived alone in a sizeable, well-maintained, and nicely furnished single home in the Overbrook section of Philly. He wasn’t a Beverly Hills fitness trainer to the stars, so she couldn’t help wondering how he was able to afford the expensive truck and his impressive home. Perhaps he’d inherited the property, Milan surmised as Gerard led her down to the basement, which served as a fully equipped gym.

“I’ll take your coat,” he said as he pulled off his own soft leather one. He hung both coats on a rack in a corner and pointed to a chair that was placed next to a desk. “Have a seat.” Milan sat. Gerard pulled open a drawer and retrieved a one-page contract. “You can look this over.”

Milan presumed the contract was standard—something downloaded from the internet. She pretended to peruse it, but couldn’t keep her wandering eyes on the page. Filled with desire, she watched Gerard as he paced across the tiled floor. His high, tight ass aroused her. When he stooped to pick up a blue plastic mat, Milan fantasized about squeezing his ass while his hard sweaty body pounded against her soft willing flesh. Damn, she needed some dick!

Gerard took the contract after she affixed her signature. “I’ll give you a copy at our next session. Is that okay?”

Mesmerized by his masculine good looks, she could only nod as he placed the mat on the floor.

“Lift your top, let me see your abs,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Self-consciously, Milan unzipped the stylish gray jacket and then raised the red cotton top. Though she didn’t have a potbelly or anything, she was a bit ashamed of her lack of muscle tone.

Gerard patted Milan’s tummy and frowned. “This area needs some work. Okay, let’s get started. Hit the mat.”

Milan didn’t want to hit the mat, she wanted to hit the bed and tangle up the sheets. But she sweetly obliged, giving Gerard twenty painful leg lifts and twenty agonizing crunches. She couldn’t hold her smile in place when he ordered her to do twenty bicycle maneuvers.

When she reached the last three torturous movements, she collapsed and said pleadingly, “I can’t do anymore.” Her face was contorted in an awful scowl; she knew she was not a pretty sight. And she was sweating profusely. Perspiration soaked her scalp and trailed down her forehead, drenching her hair and ruining her makeup.

“Three more!” Gerard insisted in the booming voice of a drill sergeant.

Emotionally, she found his commanding personality a complete turn-on, but physically Milan could not take anymore. “Listen,” she said, breathlessly. “I’m really out of shape; I don’t think I can do any more.” She repositioned herself and grimaced as she struggled to rise to her feet. Her stomach muscles were cramping, they hurt like hell. “Why don’t I just pay for the session,” she offered, adding another facial contortion to express the depths of her pain.

Feet spread apart, arms folded across his broad chest, Gerard peered at Milan, a frown etched into the corners of his mouth. “You insult me.”

“How?” she asked, clearly astonished.

“I didn’t rush through traffic to watch you plod through a few exercises,” Gerard spoke angrily. His eyes blazed, he seemed barely able to suppress his rage. “I didn’t agree to train you so you could waste my time,” he scolded. “I take fitness very seriously. I thought you were ready to make a lifestyle change, but I was obviously wrong.” Gerard stepped around the desk, grabbed the contract, and ripped it half. “Keep your money.” He turned around. “I’ll get your coat and walk you to the door.”

“No!” The word burst from her lips without warning. The intensity of Gerard’s anger was insane. There was a strong possibility that she was insane also. But it didn’t matter, her pussy was on fire and she was willing to do whatever it took to get back into her trainer’s good graces. “I want to commit. Really,” she declared, nodding. Ignoring her throbbing stomach muscles, she dropped down on the mat. “I’ll do it. I’ll give you the last three.” Bending at the waist, she pulled her limbs into place and twisted her torso, alternately touching elbow to knee. “One, two, three,” she shouted as she performed each repetition.

Holding her coat, Gerard stood over her, regarding her with renewed interest. Milan saw approval in his eyes and smiled. “Ten more,” he said softly. There was a hint of tenderness in his tone, which seemed to promise a lengthy, thick, and long-lasting dick.

Motivated by the unspoken promise, Milan grunted and groaned through ten more excruciating exercises. At the completion, Gerard reached for Milan’s hand. Gently, he pulled her to her knees and then released her hand.

Why didn’t he want her to stand? Confused, she lifted her chin, her eyes searched his face.

“Milan, do you understand the nature of our relationship?” Gerard’s voice was silk.